Cuddle Like You Mean It

22. Chapter 22 Staley

Chapter 22 Staley

T he look on Theo’s face, ugh.

Do I regret what we did? Hell, no. But now I’m worried Theo does because I’m panicking a little—okay, a lot—and I’m not sure how to tell him this was incredible while describing how unhinged my brain is feeling. I do what I do best when I’m backed into a corner only I can paint myself into. I talk too much.

“I mean, you could lose your job, right? For fraternizing with a student.”

Theo shakes his head, watching me as I gather any loose item I can find and try to find it a new home. Anxious energy, I can’t help it. I’m feeling way too much.

“No, because I have no intention of being lenient on your g-grade.”

A cunning grin spreads across his face. I can’t be angry at his face or his mouth, which is a Swiss Army knife of multiple sex functions. He’s playing a little dominant, and I love every second except for the part where my heart pumps blood through my body faster than I know what to do with. The air is thin.

“Oh. Isn’t there some rule?”

I want to insist I’ll keep the secret of his magic tongue and fingers. Honesty is a fundamental part of who I am. My training suggests I turn myself into the Cuddle Like You Mean It owner. As mortifying as that would be, it’s the right thing. I can’t imagine I need to tell them about what just happened with Theo—maybe he needs a different cuddler than me.

“For instructors and students, yes. Not us.”

Us?

“I’m sorry.” Although what I’m sorry for, I’m not sure.

“What for? Because I’m not.” A hint of Luca seeps into this statement, and my body responds with a zip right through my middle.

“You might not lose your job, but I broke many rules, and if they find out what we did, I’m out of a job. And to be clear, everything we did was something I wanted. I’m not shitting on you here. I’m disappointed in myself for letting it get that far.”

Theo grabs the ends of his flannel and cinches the arms tightly, causing part of his belly to press over the top of it. Sigh, I love a man with a soft body.

Theo considers arguing with me but thinks better of it and retreats a few steps back to the doorway of my room. Seeing him confused by my actions is too damn much for my heart. It’s as if his eyes take in every detail of the body he helped to unravel, stopping where he lovingly kissed and the ear he spoke so authoritatively into, guiding my body through with his touches. Hot men leaning against door frames should be illegal because the way Theo is standing in my doorway is a damn crime. He breathes in sharply while dragging his hands through his mussed hair (felony charge!).

“I don’t agree with you.” He crosses his arms across his chest authoritatively.

“Um, I need to sit out of today’s class. Give us some breathing room because if I have to hear you recite one more poem or give another reprimand to a student, I won’t make it through class without playing back the last twenty minutes in my head.”

The kicked-puppy face is back. My aftercare skills are lacking.

“Theo, please don’t give me that look. You’re not making this easy for me.”

“This might have been a s-slip up on our part, but we c-can spend t-time together differently next t-time.”

I consider his words and how he’s not fighting his stutter. He’s letting me see all of him. I nod because my nerve endings are raw, and I’m feeling all sorts of exposed right now.

“Maybe . . .”

Theo nods, defeated by my insistence.

“I get you’re scared. But there’s something h-here.” He closes the space between us, scooping my shaking hands into his. It’s warm and robust, and in such a way my nerves subside. With our fingers intertwined, he draws them up to his chest, and I feel it, the something . Theo’s heart isn’t going any slower than mine. He kisses my temple softly, letting me feel all the life coursing through him, electric and mutual.

After a beat, he pulls his mouth away and kisses the place where our hands connect, and then, he lets me go and walks out of my bedroom, leaving me to deal with the cleanup on aisle three, where my vagina is located. Heat radiates in all the places he touched, and for once, I’m speechless.

What now? I text Gabby and ask her if she will play hooky and meet me for a coffee. I need a friend.

Pacing is a thing I do now. When Gabby finds me in front of the coffee shop off campus, I’ve worn an indentation on the sidewalk. Gabby sports dark reddish-black Doc Martens, unlaced from the ankle up. Ripped fishnets, topped with distressed denim shorts and a T-shirt that says “I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.” I’d be half as cool as her in a more perfect world.

Gabby waves excitedly, runs, and tackles me with a hug, where the top of her head grazes the underside of my boobs. An immediate sense of relief fills my lungs. Gabby is generous with her affection, and I’ll take whatever grounding she can offer for my current state.

“Staley, are you good? You don’t strike me as the kinda person who ditches class for no reason.”

“I’m okay ... I mean, I could be better. It’s fine. We can meet up later.”

Gabby hooks her arm through mine and drags me to the coffee shop entrance.

“Staley. We’re going to get you a quadruple shot, and then you’re going to tell me why you look like you’re ten seconds away from puking up your breakfast.”

She’s right. Without coffee in my veins, I can’t spill my guts about my biggest and most enjoyable life mistake. Freshly ground coffee hits my nose filling me with life. The shop is busy with students in groups studying together, which I did not anticipate, while the line to order is about five customers deep.

Obnoxious banter clicks my already anxious state up five notches. Alex and Jack—the unambiguously assholish duo—are shoving each other into the other’s shoulder.

“You’re an idiot, Alex. I can get any girl’s number—”

“Last night must have been an exception to this declaration of yours then?”

Jack rolls his eyes and searches the ceiling for a believable lie. No one knows this, but Alex has booked me for cuddle appointments in the past. He’s not like his friend Jack, but it doesn’t help Alex’s persona by hanging out with him.

“Whatever, she had an early exam this morning. I’ll see her around, and when I do, I’ll give her some of this sweet man meat.”

Retinas can burn when exposed to idiocy in action, right? Jack thrusts the air with his pelvis, humping away as if he’s in the comfort of his home and not in the middle of a coffee shop where Norah Jones sings overhead.

“Staley, grab us a table, and I’ll order.” Gabby nudges me the other way.

I’m tough, usually, but this morning, I’m all sorts of inside out. With my head down, heavy in thought, I turn to secure a couch with a low coffee table mildly covered in muffin crumbs for Gabby and me. Scrolling through my phone is a lousy anxiety hack—no new updates. Nothing new is a good thing, but nothing from Theo either.

Still drunk on Theo’s cuddle session, I attempt to find him online. Searching out images of him in the wild, doing everyday human things.

The sound of a throat clearing stops me from internet stalking Theo. I come up empty-handed anyway. He’s probably one of those emotionally developed people who don’t have a lick of social media, which serves me no benefit. Alex stands before me.

“Can I sit for a second?”

Alex drops heavily onto the couch, nearly catapulting me out of my spot.

“I’m beginning to think nothing you do is subtle, Alex. Aren’t you worried your other half will see us talking?”

Alex glances back at Jack, who is shamelessly hassling Gabby and probably trying to get her number or convince her that he’s not as insufferable as a nasty heat rash.

“Nah, I could walk around with a hot-pink wig on, and Jack’s perceptiveness would immediately be replaced by his desire to hit on me.”

It’s funny because it’s true, and I don’t even know Jack well.

“What do you want, Alex? Come to reveal my weakness to the whole campus—again?”

After a few choice words on his doorstep in which I called him an ass and accused him of trying to cuddle me to humiliate me, he assured me he had no ill will.

He’s quick to defend himself. “No. I would never do that.”

Alex doesn’t make eye contact—he looks straight ahead—and stares past everyone. Distant.

“I was hoping you’d do me a solid and pretend I never agreed to cuddle you.”

The look he gives me nearly topples me back. He appears offended as his hands wrench together.

“You know, Staley, you don’t know much about me, and it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot ... but I think it’s fair to say I know much more about you than you think. I was you at one point in my life. Anxious. Scared. Prepared—to verbally take anyone down who dared to threaten my shaky foundation. You think you’re hiding your shit, but I see right through it.”

Woah.

Lashing out a rebuttal would feel nice, but this would give Alex the satisfaction of knowing his statement is true. I mean, it’s truer than true, and I’m sick to my stomach that twice in one day, two separate men figured out my insecurity without even trying all that hard.

I am anxious, messy, and scared about everything. Theo is right—I’m not living; I’m hiding, and Alex found me panicking in plain sight. Making a scene right now sounds exhausting, and I need to get over myself and admit some people care about my well-being.

“To be clear, and I think it goes without saying, I’m not into you—that way ...”

“The feelings are mutual.” Alex doesn’t say it in a snotty way. There’s a story behind his words and it’s not mine to tell.

“Alright, so why are you over here diagnosing me then?”

Loud taunts from Jack interrupt our conversation.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, I asked if your mother was a beaver because, damn!”

Jack is insufferable. I dare glance at Alex and telepathically message him an SOS. You need better friends . He nods in silent agreement, and then a familiar voice rocks my shaky body.

When I turn to confirm my suspicions, I spot the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever seen.

Maeve. Shit, she’s even more gorgeous close-up.

She’s rocking a floral bohemian top with bell-shaped sleeves and sheer fabric. The sun shines through the blouse, revealing her lacy bralette and slender torso. Now I see why Jack is fawning over her, and my jaw drops slightly.

“Maeve?” I call out.

She will think it’s weird that I'm calling her by her name when I’ve never met.

“Yeah?” She looks between Jack, Alex, and me on the couch, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, um. I know Theo.”

Jack croons out an obnoxious “Ohhh shit,” and I wish he’d evaporate into thin air already. Alex stands and yanks Jack by his arm and mutters, “Let’s go, jackass , ” and I’m beyond grateful for his interception. Confused but grateful. Jack lumbers off, already distracted by the next girl with legs and boobs he sees.

“Staley, I’ll see you later, okay?” Alex places his hand on the back of my elbow.

“Yep, sounds good.” The fake, sugary words leave my mouth.

“Staley? Thee Staley?”

Of course, she knows my name, and now she knows I was sitting with another guy, and I’m looking forward to seeing him. I hope she doesn’t know how I erased her message on the machine or stared at her from down the block. But what do I know? Maeve and Theo are best friends, and it seems appropriate he might have told her those things.

“Yes. Staley. Staley Monroe.”

“This is probably breaking all girl code, but you and I need to talk—about Theo.”

Every alarm bell rings within my nervous system, signaling me to run. Fight or flight? Why can’t I choose both?

“Now’s not such a good time. I’m having a coffee with my Gabby. I mean my friend. Her name is Gabby, but she isn’t mine. She’s my friend, not my possession.”

The straps of my backpack become my latest fidget spot, adjusting them until they are as tight as possible. I’m giving Gabby ten seconds tops before I’m out of here.

“The one with the fishnets?”

Maeve leans to look past me. Gabby waves at the both of us with her adorable septum piercing glinting underneath the funky overhead lights.

“Yeah. We’re getting our coffee to go. Maybe we could talk about Theo some other time?”

I came all over her best friend’s hand. His mouth was on my lips—my downstairs lips! Push her down and run away.

“She’s cute. Single?”

Maeve’s eyes go all glassy, her mouth turning up in a coded smile. No, Maeve is checking Gabby out, scanning her from the sleek hairstyle to the smash-the-patriarchy boots she’s wearing. Glancing between the two women makes me dizzy because I trusted Theo when he said he and Maeve weren’t into one another, but this interaction proves he was being honest. Maeve looks Gabby over.

I clear my throat, and Maeve snaps back to face me. Slightly embarrassed, she touches her now pink cheek.

“Gabby’s single . . .”

“Do you think you could introduce us? Wait, something’s different about you ...”

Maeve has met me exactly one time—right this moment—how could she possibly assess any change in me, let alone anything else about me other than how neurotic I’m acting? Does she know Theo rocked my world? Do Theo and Maeve have some telekinetic connection between them?

“Um, I didn’t blow dry my hair this morning. Everything else is one hundred percent the same.”

Maeve approaches me until we’re mere inches apart. I trust Theo and his best friend will keep their mouths shut about the indiscretion of this morning, but if Jack were to overhear, he could tell someone. Who? I don’t know.

She inspects my eyes, and I brace for impact. This is how it all ends—I die by catfight—because I must protect my privacy. My killer, a bombshell with the world’s best metabolism and best friend to the most magical fucking fingers in the history of time. A smile explodes across her face, and she does a little jumpy, excited thing girls do when they have a secret or have won tickets to a Taylor Swift concert. Her hands grab mine, and we’re both jumping suddenly, but I have no idea what is happening.

“Staley. Oh. My. God.” She pauses, but her eyes are glittery and lit up. “I’m gonna kill Theo!”

Here come the claws. Make yourself smaller. Fetal position. Pretend this is a bear attack and cover your head!

“It wasn’t his fault. How’d you know something was different about me? We’ve never met.”

“I sure as hell hope it was his fault! How he described you doesn’t even begin to do you justice—total babe. My best friend has exceptional taste. And a woman knows.” Maeve winks, and I fall into how attractive she is.

Sweat pours from the palms of my hands, and yet, Maeve—utterly unbothered by my guilt of not being a professional—keeps holding them in hers. She’s probably got a besties handshake she does with all her girlfriends.

“I am?”

“Of course you are! Never in the history of ever have I seen Theo this into someone. You’re his first—”

This has to be an alternate dimension.

“First?” Thoughts collide in my head.

The flowy top swings around Maeve’s body, and I take her all in, wondering how she thinks I’m as eye-catching in her shadow. Maeve is everything I am not; casually brilliant, and not confirmed yet, but I’m positive a runway model in Paris.

“Loads of poetry.”

“Wait, are we talking about the same thing?”

“Staley, if you’re trying to hide your I-got-laid face, you’re not doing a good job. I can spot this sort of thing a mile away.”

The itching starts before I can stop it—a histamine response to anxiety—as my scalp heats. Chatter and music mix to form a dull, muffled sound. Everything slows down, and my ears are stuffed with cotton. Patrons enter and exit the shop, and I check my watch to see it’s nearing the lunch rush. Now, we have an audience—an audience with ears.

Any second now, I’ll start to hyperventilate in front of all of these unsuspecting people—who, I hope, are too busy memorizing periodic tables and writing papers on the gender pay gap (and not in my poetry class)—or I’ll cry and crumple to the floor only to be revived by Gabby putting the straw of an iced coffee to my lips. Anxiety is a real kick in the dick, and although this morning was one of the best moments of my life, I’m finding myself overstimulated by all of it.

Wobbly legs try to upend me, and the tears arrive for their grand appearance. I shake my head, speechless (because breathing is hard to do mid panic attack), hurried to find the right words as I push out the side door for a breath of air. I pray Gabby hurries up and rescues me from this downward spiral. Maeve follows.

“I . . . Maeve, I—”

“Hey, are you alright? Do you need to sit down?”

I’d love to sit in a six-foot-deep hole with the dirt pulled over me.

Here lies Staley Monroe. She proved all the doctors wrong when she died of an anxiety attack.

Crying is an act I try to avoid at all costs. Still, I should try to keep clear of having sexual relations when I’m under contract not to, and with someone who happens to be my teaching assistant who happens to be the sex voice of my dirty girl dreams—stupid collegiate degree; the worst.

I love my dad, but I’m angry at myself for making the promise. It would be so much easier to wash my hands of all of this school shit.

“I, I, need ...” I dig through my bag, looking for my breakthrough medication.

“Staley, hey, what’s going on? Who is this chick? Is she hurting you? Let my friend go.”

Gabby flails two iced coffees around, completely misinterpreting the situation. She shoots Maeve a look fierce enough to take down a grown man.

“Maeve.” I sputter out in hopes that if I act normal, I’ll be normal.

I could evaporate into the ether, a wisp in the coffee-bean winds because these two are laser-focused on one another.

“Okay, I’m Gabby. But that still doesn’t answer the question.”

“We were talking about Theo, my b—”

“I know who Theo is.” Gabby bites.

And because Gabby is the coolest fucking human in the world, she snags my bag from my hand and hands me my coffee without even batting an eye. I reach for the bag again. Dammit, why aren’t people mind readers?

“Maeve, please don’t tell Theo about this,” I beg her.

“Hey, Maeve, it’s been real, but Staley and I have a real syntax problem happening, and it requires zero interruption from hot girls. We’ll be on our way if you don’t mind stepping aside.”

Maeve wipes my sweat off her hands, saturating her cute top. Lip trembles and rushed heartbeats linger, and it’s a fitful race to get away from the building as Gabby pulls me down the sidewalk. The combination of the crisp fall air and movement hits my lungs with a rush of much-needed adrenaline. I breathe it in and allow Gabby to hold some of the heaviness my body is carrying.

Gabby finds a spot on the grass under a tree where the sun has left the ground dry enough for us to sit. I collapse, my back falling into the trunk. I let the tears come out all at once. I hate anxiety with every fiber of my being. Gabby places my bag between us, and I find my medication bottle. It’s empty.

“Hey, Staley, you’re okay. Whatever Maeve thinks you did or didn’t do—it’s fine.”

Through tears, I prepare my best argument. “You don’t understand. What I did is not fine. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t lose my job after today. If my bosses find out ...”

“Staley, what are you talking about?”

“My client and I, well, we did stuff. There were hands on and in me. It was a real Porky Pig situation.”

“Porky Pig?”

“No pants, shirt only. That was me and the client. I was in zero pants. Underwear location was unknown for many consecutive minutes.”

Gabby sips her coffee and shakes her head as if I’ve exasperated her last living nerve.

“Listen up, Staley, were you both consenting adults? What’s the big deal?”

“I rented out my lady cave for him to host a finger party. We both signed a contract saying cuddle sessions are only cuddling, and now I’m worried he thinks this will happen every time we cuddle—and I secretly hope it does because I let him make me come harder than I’ve ever come into existence all my lives.”

“All your lives, huh? It was that good, and all he used was his fingers?”

I sigh and count what I see: an oak tree, a wooden bench, a water fountain, and Gabby’s warm smile.

“His mouth too. But, honestly, Gabby, it was his voice more than anything. He commanded the space between us even when he stumbled over a few words. It was familiar and direct. Being bossed around or told what to do is not my jam, but this was—I don’t think I can put into words what happened.”

I fill Gabby in on the other sweet details, temple kisses and all.

“I still can’t believe you won’t tell me who your cuddle client is. Where can I find one of my own? I don’t think you need to get ahead of yourself. No man gives a temple kiss as a goodbye if they didn’t enjoy what happened. I can’t imagine he’d be dumb enough to tell your boss.”

Before I can ream Gabby for making such a ridiculous joke on the tail end of my panic attack, obnoxious snickers from none other than Jack hit me from behind. Does this oaf loom around every chance he gets? Double hell.

“Staley’s hot for teacher? I wonder what Professor Graham will say about his boy genius teaching assistant giving out favors to students he’s meant to grade in his class. The student handbook probably has a line or two about fraternization ...”

What in the fresh hell? No one mentioned Theo, not once!

Gabby, my lord and savior of all things related to the comeback, stands and sips her coffee.

“Let’s not pretend you have read the student handbook, let alone any other book. Do us all a favor and get fucked.”

Jack is less than amused and spits at Gabby’s feet. His words are venomous.

“Staley is busy flirting with the TA. Guaranteed A if you sleep with him?”

Jack wanders off with an overly masculine sense of pride. I close my eyes and picture his last few brain cells taking the collision as an opportunity to jump ship.